


once.

by nychthemera



Category: Snowboarding RPF
Genre: Canon Divergence, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-04
Updated: 2015-01-04
Packaged: 2018-03-05 08:26:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,119
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3112946
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nychthemera/pseuds/nychthemera
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>More than once life takes turn to the unexpected. Sometimes it's painful, and sometimes the consequences are not what you thought they'd be.</p>
            </blockquote>





	once.

Shaun’s never been one to read newspapers. Hasn’t had the time or the interest for it. But when the friend he was supposed to meet at a small side street coffee shop is twenty minutes late and not answering his phone, he finds himself flipping through a local paper. He’s not even reading the words, not properly focusing on the pictures either, just turning the pages in search of something to do. Until a familiar photo on the arts and entertainment section catches his eye and he turns the page back. Yes, he’s seen that photo before, many times before in fact.

That photo is the reason he’s standing in front of a brightly lit gallery half an hour later, hesitating whether to go in or not. The exhibition name is etched on the window and Shaun can’t help but think that the photographer has gone far in just a few years. Private exhibitions in big cities, with a steady stream of people walking in and out of the gallery. Pulling down his beanie a bit in a poor attempt at making himself less recognizable, Shaun finally pulls the door open and steps into the large white room. The contrast between the pristine surroundings and the scarred faces, bombed towns and suffering people with haunted looks in their eyes is a shock, but not so much to Shaun as it is to the woman next to him.

“Oh God, can you believe someone would risk their life to go into that wretched part of the world and take pictures of those poor people?” the woman asks Shaun, her eyes locked to a picture of a man sitting on a plastic chair surrounded by rubble and sand.

“Yes,” Shaun says curtly. He can believe it all too well. Muttering an excuse he moves on to the next room, full of deeply coloured photos of girls and women in their homes. They’re good, he can see that even if he knows next to nothing about photography. But it’s the last room, filled with more personal photos that hits Shaun the hardest. Pictures of the photographer’s family, beautiful and sharp. And then there’s an image Shaun didn’t know existed, couldn’t have even imagined existing. Right in the middle of the room is a small, black and white photo of two simple rings, and seeing that picture knocks the wind out of Shaun’s lungs.

“Ahh, ‘Es war einmal ein Versprechen’. Intense picture, but he won’t explain what it’s really about,” someone suddenly says and even though the pronunciation isn’t perfect, Shaun can tell the speaker has spoken German before. Shaun turns his head and finds a woman standing next to him. “Mary Mueller, I run this gallery. That’s one of my favourite works of his, but I don’t think he would have allowed me to exhibit it if I hadn’t accidentally seen it when visiting his studio. “ Shaun nods, not knowing what to say. “Have you seen his work before? I mean, besides those images in the first room that have been all over the newspapers and internet, not necessarily his strongest works even,” the gallerist rambles on and it gives Shaun time to take a deep breath before answering.

“Some of those, yes,” it’s all he can manage before turning and walking out of the gallery, leaving the woman looking after him stunned. Once back on the street he fishes his phone out of his jacket pocket and chooses the first number on his speed dial.

“Hey, where are you man? Okay. Can you get us into Aspen or Park City or somewhere with snow? Yeah, I just really need to go shred right now and get out of New York for a while. Excellent, see you at the airport in the morning.” Shaun realizes he’s talked a mile a minute, but he needs to get out of the city, out of the prying eyes of paparazzi, needs to feel the snow under his feet and board even if he’s not going to compete this season. But first, he needs a beer. Or something stronger.  
\---------- 

“Okay, what’s the matter? You’ve been off whole week and I really wanted us to have a nice vacation,” Iouri asks Shaun while they’re finishing their breakfast. Outside the sun is slowly rising and revealing the fresh snow that fell overnight, and Shaun knows he should be excited about it, about getting to ride some powder. But he knows it’s not going to happen, he can’t delay what he’s about to say any longer.  


“I can’t do this anymore,” Shaun says, talking to his coffee cup more than he’s talking to Iouri. He twists the ring on his finger one last time before pulling it off and setting it on the table between them.

“Can’t do what?” the other man asks, his voice sharp and eyes on the ring.

“This. Any of this. Us,” Shaun replies, lifting his eyes to meet Iouri’s. He sees Iouri is about to say something and raises his hand to stop him. “Look man, I love you, but I can’t spend the rest of my life afraid to pick up the phone every time there’s an unknown number calling. Not knowing if you’re going to come back from Afghanistan or Chechnya or wherever it is that you end up going to. You’re not invincible, although you seem to think otherwise.”

“And you think you are? Newsflash Shaun, this isn’t easy for me either. Not the traveling and uncertainty and hiding and secrecy you so insist upon, but at least I’ve put everything I’ve got into making us work,” Iouri doesn’t shout but his voice is harsh and he’s stubbornly confronting Shaun like he’s some challenge to win. It doesn’t surprise Shaun the slightest, it’s how things have always been; the two of them challenging each other, pushing each other further and further. But never like this.

“Don’t you dare say I didn’t give my everything to this relationship. I’ve given up more than you could ever imagine for you. But I’ve got my limits and I’m tired and I can’t take this anymore,” Shaun’s gotten to his feet, as if he’s ready to physically confront Iouri if it has to come to that. Iouri’s mirroring his posture, hands flat on the table, like it’s the last thing keeping him from breaking something or hitting Shaun, or possibly both.

“’I’ve given up more than you could ever imagine for you’,” Iouri mimics Shaun and if the Swiss man had managed to keep his anger at bay earlier, he’s ready to unleash it now. “You know what Shaun? Giving up a sponsorship deal or two doesn’t really count. Not when I’ve moved to another country halfway across the world from my family and friends, gotten kicked out of the best photo agency in the world because I couldn’t properly work from where we lived.”

“Don’t for a second pretend you didn’t jump the chance to move here when we first discussed it, like it wasn’t what you’d wanted for ages. And I never, ever told you to stop working the way you did, all I asked was for you to be careful!” Shaun is shouting now, attacking being the only way he knows to use in his defence.

“Doesn’t matter now, does it? And Shaun, when you love someone, you don’t get tired of them! So hey, nice that you had an attention span of a couple of years to have me as some toy to discard when you don’t feel like playing with it anymore. I trusted you but I guess that means nothing,” Iouri pushes his hair back from his face and Shaun seems rage distort his features in a way that almost scares him.

“Shut up! Just shut the fuck up man! You weren’t, aren’t, some toy to me. I wanted this to work out, I wanted it so badly, but with you doing even more dangerous stuff and not even bothering to inform me about it I’ve had enough. I have enough shit in my life to deal with, and an actual profession to focus on to deal with all that,” Shaun says before he can think and as soon as the words are out of his mouth he regrets them.

“An actual profession?! You slide down slopes while I endanger my life to let the world know about the horrors people do to each other!” Iouri’s right about that, Shaun would be the first to admit it, but the situation’s gotten too much out of hand for him to say anything like that now.

“Good thing the horrors won’t end in a while then, eh. Will keep you busy and earning your own bread and butter. Have a good rest of your life Iouri,” Shaun says and walks out of the room, straight to where he left his packed suitcase earlier that morning. He’s fuming and even the thought of being in the same closed space with Iouri for a second longer is making him want to break something. It’s an irrational feeling, he thinks, and flinches when something flies past his head and drops to the floor with a clink. Looking down, Shaun sees Iouri’s engagement ring and before he can even think about it, he stepped on the ring, like not seeing it makes it easier to walk out of the door.  
\----------

Three weeks before Christmas Shaun is standing inside the gallery again, looking at the pictures of Iouri’s family, at the familiar faces. If someone asked why he was there, he’d quickly come up with a lie about wanting to support upcoming artists. It’s a terrible lie, he knows it, but he doubts anyone truly cares. The real reason, not that he’s ready to admit it to himself, is that he misses Iouri. Misses the way the other man would challenge him, be it snowboarding or house maintenance, misses the way they could understand each other without having to say anything, misses the way Iouri’s been the only one brave enough to call Shaun on his bullshit. So there he is, at the end of the year that didn’t go at all like planned, staring at piece of his own history too.

“Ahh, I thought I’d seen wrong but it’s you,” a woman says to Shaun and as he turns around, he sees the female gallerist. Melissa, Mindy, Shaun can’t remember her name. “I take it you liked what you saw. The works are for sale, if you’d like to purchase a piece. Though I’m not sure if he’d be willing to sell any of these more personal ones. I could always ask if you’re interest though,” the woman keeps rambling on and before Shaun can stop her and say he’s not planning on spending money on any of the images, she’s opened her mouth. “Iouri darling, come over here for a moment. I might have a potential buyer!”

Shaun’s body goes stiff and before he manages to say anything, the photographer has made his way in to the room. Supporting himself on crutches and obviously making an effort not to put any weight on his foot, Iouri stops like he’s hit a wall when he recognizes Shaun.

“Iouri sweetheart, this is… I don’t actually know your name,” the gallerist turns to Shaun, waiting for him to introduce himself.

Iouri’s quicker. “Shaun.” It’s all he says, the range of emotions showing on his face changing from one to another so fast Shaun can’t keep up.

“Oh, you two know each other?” Mary, that’s her name, Shaun finally remembers it, asks and looks from one man to the other. “I guess I’ll leave you to it then.” Shaun doesn’t fully register her words, or her leaving the room, too focused on looking at Iouri.

“I’m sorry,” Shaun eventually says. “And congratulations, quite an exhibition.”

“I’m sorry too,” Iouri replies with a nod, not needing Shaun to elaborate. “For everything. And thank you. First and last I’ll probably ever have.”

“Oh, I’m sure you’ll manage to take plenty of more photos people want to see in an environment like this. Unless…” Shaun trails off and waves his hand towards Iouri’s foot.

“This? A snowboarding accident. Of all things in the world. I should be back on both of my feet in a couple of weeks,” he says, a small smile playing on his lips. Shaun’s smiling too, because during all the years they were together Iouri never got injured although he knew less about snowboarding than Shaun did. “Though I guess I wasn’t the only one injured this year. Sucks about what happened before Sochi.”

It’s not something Shaun particularly likes to think back on, getting injured and recovering slower than he would have liked to. And while the media were quick to jump to conclusions when he failed to defend his gold medal in Russia, he feels bad about using the injury as an excuse.

“I think I’m too old for the sport,” Shaun’s tone is a lot more serious than he wanted it to be, there being more truth in the words than he’d like to admit. It’s what they all say, that he’s past his prime and dethroned and should move on and let the new kids shine.

“Nah, those kids with their nines and tens, they shouldn’t have been anywhere near the podium, it’s not the true nature of the sport,” Iouri fires off, obviously having spent time watching the final and Shaun almost wishes he hadn’t, hadn’t seen him fail when everyone was counting on him.

“Glad to hear you still care, man. Not my best season to witness, so I hope you didn’t waste too much time in front of the TV,” Shaun says, flippantly, like he’s not bothered by how many people have been doubting him ever since the Olympics.

“I was there actually, in Sochi. Managed to see it on the spot. Visited family and got a job there before heading to Ukraine to shoot the demonstrations,” Iouri’s face turns serious and Shaun can’t pin down the reasons for that. “Look, I know saying we didn’t separate on the best of terms is an understatement, but how about having a dinner later? For old times’ sake?” Iouri lacks the confidence he usually oozes when he says that and Shaun thinks, feels, it must have taken some courage to suggest that.

“Sure. I’ll be in town for a week or so before heading back home for the holidays. Nothing that important going on so whenever you’re free,” Shaun answers and reaches his hand to take the phone Iouri’s offering him, entering his number on the contact list without a word. 

“We’ll talk details later, okay?” Shaun says just as Iouri mutters something similar. They both smile, although Iouri’s smile looks tired and he keeps shifting his balance on the crutches in a way that seems uncomfortable.

Shaun doesn’t exactly know what to think of the encounter, but it’s not what he was expecting. He’d always thought that the day he’d see Iouri again after all the months and years, he’d still be angry. But all he feels is sadness.  
\----------

Shaun’s still buzzing after his win. It’s the combination of champagne and whatever he’s been offered and poured down his throat along the evening, and hearing the words “perfect one hundred” after the run. He knew it was a good run, one to prove everyone he’d earned his title again. Completing that five-peat, he’d felt like flying and everything had been exhilarating. Now, sitting in his room hours after the event he wishes Iouri had been there to see it, to experience it with him. Shaun thinks about calling the man, but he’s not entirely sure where Iouri is and if it’s day or night where he is and if he could even answer the phone if the call went through.

With all those thoughts running through his head it takes Shaun longer than necessary to realize his phone is ringing. Reaching over to where he’d dropped it on his bed, he sees the name on the screen and grins.

“Hey man, it’s like you read my mind,” he greets and flops on his back to the bed.

“Hi Shaun. How was the competition?” Iouri asks, curious but his voice sounds strained and it bothers Shaun. Or maybe he’s imagining it.

“Perfect one hundred man! On the last run! Double McTwist twelve-sixty into frontside double cork twelve-sixty. I wish you could’ve seen. I mean, obviously you’ve seen it, but in competition, in front of that crowd,” Shaun rambles on, his inebriated mind shutting down all nagging suspicions that the crowd hadn’t cheered for him as much as they could have.

“That’s cool. Look, there’s actually a reason I called you. Besides asking how you did,” Iouri says and Shaun hears him take a deep breath before continuing. “Please don’t freak out, but something happened yesterday. I was out in a village taking photos with some of the guys from the German unit and we… We were attacked.”

Shaun sits up on the bed, sits up faster than he’s ever sat up in his entire life. “What do you mean, you were attacked?” His heart is trying to beat its way out of his chest and he’s fairly sure he can feel the blood rushing in his veins, trying to remove the alcohol from his system.

“There were some men, they forced us to stop on the way back to the base saying there was an IED on the roadside and when one of our guys got out to destroy it they jumped on us. You know I’m not allowed to tell what happened to the other guys, but I got hit by a stray bullet or shrapnel or something, I don’t know exactly and even though I had the vest it nicked my shoulder and the doctors had to put some stitches on it. It’s not serious, not really, but I’m still flying home early. We’re working on arranging it all, they say it’s too dangerous to have me with them for longer with the situation developing and I’ll probably be back in Switzerland next week.” Iouri says it all quietly, but in a rush like so many times before.

There are thousand and one questions Shaun wants to ask, his brain trying to process everything he’s heard, but he can’t make himself say any of them out loud. All the happiness he’d felt half an hour ago has vanished and has been replaced by anger. Anger towards the attackers, everyone who ever took part in the war, and anger towards Iouri, for traveling into that sandy hellhole and risking his life. Yes, Shaun’s done stupid shit in his life, gotten injured and seen other riders get badly hurt, but none of that compares to what Iouri’s putting himself through. And that makes Shaun angry.  
\----------

It’s been five days since the meeting at the gallery and Shaun is sitting at the bar of an upscale downtown restaurant, swirling the alcohol in his glass. He’s so absorbed in his thoughts, thinking about all the last minute arrangements for the Los Angeles Air and Style competition and playing with the band, that it takes him a moment to realize Iouri’s sat down next to him. Glancing aside, he sees the man is still relying on the help of crutches.

“Did you actually have an operation on the ankle?” he asks, the athlete in him assessing how long an injury like that would keep him away from the slopes.

“Yes,” Iouri answers and takes a sip of his drink. “Aah, first proper drink in ages. Not saying those meds they gave me after the operation didn’t make me feel good, but I’ve missed having a drink every now and then.” His tone is light and Shaun can tell he’s joking, but only partially.

“Your table is ready, if you’d follow me please,” the waiter is suddenly by their side, beckoning them to follow her. Shaun downs the rest of his drink and watches as Iouri masterfully makes his way between the tables and chairs to their table.

They chat idly while waiting for their food to arrive, Shaun talking about the past year, less about the snowboarding and more about the music and touring; it’s something that surprises even himself. Maybe he truly is too old for the sport, he thinks. At least he has something to fall back on, he says to Iouri.

“I’ve thought about going to university, actually,” Iouri tells when the discussion turns to what he’s been up in the past few months.

“Why?” Shaun can’t help but asks, Iouri never coming off as the type to sit in dimly lit lecture halls, listening others tell him what to do.

“I was on spec in Ukraine last summer and suddenly it hit me how insane it all was. Going somewhere where the people I was working with would get kidnapped and arrested a few weeks later, hoping someone would be interested in buying and publishing the photos I took.“ Shaun flinches when Iouri says that and he’s sure Iouri’s noticed it too, but they both pretend they didn’t see it. “So I figured I could take some classes in art history and work on my technique and maybe eventually shoot all those portraits I’ve wanted to for years.”

It’s interesting, Shaun thinks, how they’re both at crossroads in their lives. Iouri at the highest point of his career taking a step back, slowing down and focusing on something he’s not known for. And he himself, at the dawn of his career after dominating all those years, getting more and more into organizing the events for young talents, playing guitar and being on the road. It’s bittersweet, and he’s sure that people would’ve laughed at him if he’d said that’s what he’s going to be doing after his third Olympics. Then again, he was supposed to have a third Olympic gold medal to make all the decisions look less dramatic and permanent. He’s said it over and over again, how those people on the podium deserved their medals and how he wasn’t at his best, but it eats him inside no matter how little he tries to think about it. He’d spent years learning new tricks, sacrificed so much, carried so much weight on his shoulders to walk away with nothing.

“Where did you go?” Iouri’s voice pulls Shaun from his thoughts.

“Sorry man. I was thinking about how next year there’ll hopefully be less ice baths and bruises than this year. And more successes,” Shaun swiftly lies.

“Well, it’s you, you always land on your feet,” Shaun can’t help but laugh when Iouri utters those words and it takes a moment for the other man to figure out what’s so funny about it. “Okay, even literally. Seriously though, even if you decided to retire today you’d have one of the greatest careers in snowboarding and an empire to run. Though I know people would be sad to see you go.”

Or maybe they’d cheer. Shaun doesn’t say it aloud, but he’s rather sure his face betrays his emotions before he can mask them.  
\----------

“I got it!” Iouri barges into the bedroom and jumps on the bed like he’s a twelve-year-old boy. Shaun’s still curled up under the blankets, enjoying one of his rare free days before the Olympic madness hits in full force.

“Got what?” he mumbles, pushing the red curls away from his face and turning to his side to see Iouri properly.

“The job! The agency called and said they’re hiring me. Okay, it’s a temporary contract because I don’t have relevant education and blah blah blah, but the point is, they liked my work,” Iouri’s beaming and it’s the happiest Shaun’s seen him, well, probably ever.

“Congratulations!” Shaun says, his voice laced with sleep, and pushes himself up to give Iouri a quick kiss. Iouri’s faster, tangling his fingers into Shaun’s hair and pulling him into a deep kiss. When they eventually break apart, there’s a burning look in Iouri’s eyes, but it’s soft and it’s something Shaun hasn’t seen before. Flopping back on the bed and pulling Iouri down with him, Shaun’s ready to go back to sleep for a while longer and the other man better keep him company. With that in mind, he almost misses it when Iouri speaks.

“Marry me.”

Shaun’s sure he’s heard wrong, he must have fallen asleep already and it’s all some sort of bizarre dream. Despite that thought, he turns to look at the man by his side and sees a serious look on Iouri’s face.

“What?”

“I said, marry me,” Iouri repeats and stares at Shaun, willing him to say something that isn’t an interrogative. It takes Shaun a long while to understand that Iouri isn’t joking, that this is as serious as the decisive run at a competition, that he can’t fuck this up or everything he’s built his life around will come falling down in pieces.

“Okay,” he finally answers and Iouri lets out a breath Shaun hadn’t realized he was holding. “You do realize that we can’t actually get married though? It’s not legal here, and unless Switzerland…” Shaun doesn’t have time to finish his sentence when Iouri’s lips meet his.

“Semantics. I don’t care. All I care about is having a two-time Olympic gold medallist all for myself,” Iouri mutters against Shaun’s mouth.

“Way ahead of yourself, man. The Games aren’t until another month, I haven’t won anything yet,” Shaun laughs, but inside he knows Iouri’s right. No one’s even close to mastering the tricks he can do.

“You’re going to win it,” Iouri replies and while it’s not exactly the way he’d imagined spending the day a few moments before, Shaun won’t complain if they don’t make it out of the bed at all that morning.  
\---------- 

Shaun’s not exactly sure what time it is, he just knows he’s been staring out of the window for what feels like days. Coming back to New York for New Year’s seems like an incredibly bad idea in hindsight, but here he is, sitting alone in his apartment. There’s a bottle of vodka on the table, one he got from Iouri years ago, a detail Shaun had forgotten earlier. And maybe it’s that little detail popping to his mind that makes him pick up his phone and hit the call button.

“Hey,” comes the answer after a few rings, and Shaun was about to end the call just before the other man picked up. “What’s up Shaun?”

Shaun doesn’t know what to say, doesn’t even know why he’d called Iouri. So what he says comes out sounding all wrong. “We broke up.”

“…okay. I didn’t know you were seeing someone,” Iouri replies slowly, and Shaun wants to kick himself, hard. Iouri must be the last person in the world to care about Shaun’s relationship problems. Or the end of problems.

“Sorry, I shouldn’t have called you,” he says, ready to hang up.

“Wait, wait. I’m not saying this didn’t come as kind of a surprise, since it’s four AM on New Year’s Day, no wait, it’s not New Year’s Day anymore, anyway, whatever,” Iouri rambles on, just like he always does when he doesn’t quite know what to say. Taking a deep breath he continues. “You want to talk about it?”

Shaun thinks about it for a moment. “Not really, no. I’m just sitting here, staring at the bottle of Stolichnaya you once bought,” his pronunciation must still be atrocious since Iouri laughs on the other end. “And… I just ended up calling you. Sorry if I woke up or something.”

“You didn’t. I’d offer to come over and stare at that bottle with you, but I’m home so you’d probably finish drinking it before I managed to fly over. Don’t do that though,” Iouri says and something about the way Iouri refers to Switzerland as home makes Shaun ache. There was a time when home was wherever they happened to be spending time for longer than two weeks.

“At least you had it better than I did, haven’t had anyone to break up with since… I don’t even remember. Oh shit, I didn’t mean it like that,” Iouri gasps when he realizes what he’s said. “Sorry. I’m sorry.”

“So my sad life is slightly less sad than yours, eh,” Shaun remarks and the call isn’t going at all as he would have liked it to be. “Sorry, didn’t mean that.”

“We should stop saying sorry. I hope whatever you went through wasn’t as bad as our break-up. Or maybe it was bad just for me,” Iouri says, sounding like someone had suddenly strangled him, and Shaun knows they’re both thinking about what happened two years earlier.

“It was bad for me too, believe me. Even if I kind of ended up with, well, you know. Right after that. I’m sorry about that too, still,” Shaun stumbles over the words. “Though it ended last night so guess it wasn’t right either.”

“So wait, you were still with…” Iouri doesn’t finish the sentence and Shaun can’t help but think that he’s managed to hurt two people during the same night. A new personal record; how fucking awesome, he thinks bitterly.

“Yeah. Sorry, I really shouldn’t have called you,” Shaun says and now he feels like someone’s suddenly gripped his throat.

“No, I’m glad you did. And I’m glad we can be friends again,” Iouri’s words are quiet, but Shaun knows he means them. He knows Iouri wouldn’t lie, it’s not like him. “When are you coming over to Europe again?”

“In a couple of weeks. Air and Style in Austria. We’re playing there too,” Shaun adds the last sentence almost as an afterthought. “Come over to check it out? The competition, I mean.”

“I’ll be there,” Iouri answers and for the first time the whole night, Shaun smiles.  
\---------- 

It’s one of the sunniest days of the whole winter and Shaun is having the time of his life. He doesn’t remember the name of the place they’re at, having just picked a random European mountain resort to have a good day shredding and challenging each other.

Shaun’s just finished his run in the makeshift pipe when he spots someone joining the group on top of the hill and dropping in their pipe like he owned the damn thing.

“Who’s that,” he asks whoever happens to be standing next to him, his eyes never leaving the man on the pipe. The kid’s pretty good. A little rough with his landings, but not afraid with the tricks. Shaun’s surprised to notice he likes it.

“Some guy they call I-Pod. I know,” it’s Danny who answers him and that startles Shaun, he’d almost forgotten he’d asked anything. “A friend of Markus’ or something. Just, Shaun. Don’t go and challenge him to something stupid, this isn’t a competition and I don’t know how good or serious he is and you don’t need to prove anything.”

Shaun nods absentmindedly, already making his way towards the pipe. He’s not going to call in the kid for a duel or some stupid shit like that, no, he just wants to know who’s good enough to make a couple of Olympians look like they’ve stepped on the board for the first time in their lives.

“Hey man, great run. Shaun White,” he taps the man on his shoulder and when he turns around, Shaun offers his hand for a handshake.

“Thanks. And I know,” the man says, not removing his goggles but taking Shaun’s hand. Huh, Shaun thinks, intrigued. The kid wasn’t even remotely fazed when he introduced himself. It’s something that hasn’t happened in years.

“And you are?” Shaun finally has to ask when it’s obvious the man is more focused on the bindings of his board than talking with Shaun.

“Iouri Podladtchikov. Don’t worry, this is just a hobby, not going to steal your throne or anything.” The man gets up and finally removes his goggles and suddenly Shaun is looking into piercing blue eyes with a playful glint in them. And Shaun laughs.

“Oh, I like you. Race you from the top?” Shaun says and before he realizes what’s happened, Iouri’s on his way up, looking back at Shaun.

“You coming or what?”  
\---------- 

It’s been two days since the event in Innsbruck and Shaun knows he should be heading back to the States soon. Not because of the X Games, though he is pretty sure people are expecting him to at least show up for a day. No, there’s too much to organize with the Los Angeles edition of the event, but he doesn’t want to leave. Not when he’s spending nights in warmly lit restaurants with Iouri, catching up on everything.

“That was the first time I’ve ever seen you play the guitar by the way,” Iouri suddenly says, taking a sip from his drink.

“Can’t be. I’m sure I was playing already back when…” Shaun replies, but Iouri shakes his head, and the act makes Shaun miss the other man’s longer locks. “Huh, well, I hope you liked it.”

“I did. Got some really good photos too. Shooting an event like this was so… Peaceful, “ Iouri closes his eyes when he says that and Shaun knows he’s thinking back to all those times he was taking pictures in countries at war.

“Maybe one day they’ll end up in some exhibition. Though don’t replace those ‘personal ones’, they’re your best,” Shaun makes air quotes and Iouri smiles tiredly.

“Mary. She insisted on having those photos in there. To ‘make me seem more humane’,” this time it’s Iouri making the quote marks.  
“Well, to be honest, if it weren’t for the picture of our rings I probably wouldn’t have come back,” Shaun says and he knows it’s the alcohol making him say things before he’s thought them through.

“Yeah, that’s one of the images I really didn’t want in there. I kind of regret ever even taking it, or keeping it. But then I couldn’t destroy it either. Just like I couldn’t get rid off the rings either,” Iouri’s talking to the table between them more than he is to Shaun, so he can’t see the surprised look on Shaun’s face.

“You kept them?” he asks. If he was sure of something, it was that Iouri would sell the rings as soon as he could figure out someone who’d buy them. He’s never been one to keep reminders of painful memories around, unlike Shaun.

“I still have them. I don’t really know why. But they’re in a drawer in my Zürich apartment. Maybe I was hoping… Or nothing,” Iouri’s still not looking at Shaun, and Shaun feels like forcing his head up, he needs to see those blue eyes.

“You were hoping what?” Shaun’s voice is tight as he reaches over to touch Iouri’s hand. The other man finally looks up, his gaze wild and his entire body tense.

“Stupidly hoping that maybe one day they’d be more than reminders of the past. That they’d find their places again. But I was too stubborn to reach out first, to swallow my pride, and I knew you were happy so it wouldn’t have made sense anyway,” Shaun’s not sure if he’s ever seen Iouri so raw and honest, and it throws all his own emotions through a roller coaster ride in five seconds flat.

Shaun doesn’t say anything for a long time, just looks into Iouri’s eyes. Their drinks sit on the table, forgotten, the ice melting and watering them down. Then he breathes and rakes a hand through his hair, still in search of words.

“I know things didn’t work out right, and we were both probably too young and foolish for anything we tried, but when you called me after New Year’s…” Iouri says, like he needs to fill the silence stretching between them.

“I’m not promising anything. It’s the one thing I’ve learnt, not to make promises I can’t keep. But… If you’re willing to try it, let’s give it a go,” Shaun finally says, the words coming our in a rush, and it may be something people are going to judge him for doing, something that’s going to put his life on the tabloids again, but he’s also learnt not to care, he knows how to handle things like that.

Iouri nods, like he doesn’t trust his voice not to break if he speaks. Traveling back home can wait for a day or two longer, Shaun thinks, this is where he wants to be and what he wants to do right now.

**Author's Note:**

> "Es war einmal ein Versprechen" is sort of difficult to translate directly, but it's roughly "once upon a time there was a promise". 
> 
> Also, this story was heavily influenced by [this song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9HfKgoOJn9M).


End file.
